Let it all out
by Odin.Oddly
Summary: After the traumatic case in 2-4, Phoenix needs to decompress, and an observant Miles is there to help.


If Phoenix laughed louder than necessary, nobody said anything. If he dropped more food from his shaking hands than usual, nobody pointed it out to him. If his eyes were wide, his face pale, and his usually perfectly spiked hair in an unusual state of dishabille, nobody was gauche enough to comment.

'Of course,' Miles though uncharitably, 'Their silence is probably due less to social grace than to sheer obliviousness...'

The feast in the conference room of Hotel Ritz was boisterous and gay despite there being only a handful of people present. Pearls was glued to Maya's side, staring with watery eyed adoration at the spirit channeler. Maya was handling the entire situation with her typical, unflappable enthusiasm by telling each dry detail as though it were a clue to the mystery of life.

"I was starving! He might have left me there for days and never fed me... I could feel my stomach and back touching. What I wouldn't have given for a hamburger..."

Pearls seemed appropriately impressed.

Phoenix, on the other hand, was participating in the conversation as little as possible, paling infinitesimally every time Maya would add another detail to her adventure. When Phoenix spilled his second glass of water (Miles had subtly moved the pitcher of grape juice away from the defense attorney when he realized that a mess was imminent) Miles decided to take action.

With his usual aplomb, he excused himself from the table.

Gumshoe was vainly trying to disengage himself from Wendy in the corner, and though Miles was close enough to hear their conversation, years of practice had inured him to the Old-Bag's stream of consciousness speech. He stepped into their conversation and placed a hand on the antique chatterbox.

"Pardon me, Miss Oldbag, but I require Detective Gumshoe." His voice held the appropriate amount of deference, and a pinch of charm. The old woman was putty in his hands. The look on Gumshoe's face promised Miles eternal gratitude, his first born child, and all the ramen Miles could ever want. He mentally filed the detective's gratitude away for later.

Before Gumshoe could start pontificating on his adoration, Miles spoke. "Can I trust you to see the Feys home?"

"Sure, pal!" Gumshoe exclaimed. He flushed and scratched the back of his head. "Hey, ah, thanks for saving me back there. I re-"

"Of course. I'll inform the girls." Miles turned on his heel before he had to listen to any further gratitude.

When Phoenix knocked over his third glass of the night and toppled one of the fruit arrangements after Miles put a hand on the brunette attorney's shoulder, he felt vindicated in his heavy handed manner. The poor man seemed like he was about to have a break-down, and in the worst way.

"You're ready to go, Phoenix?" Mile's voice was mild and concilatory, and he was doing his best to ignore the assorted fruits piled atop his Italian dress shoes. Phoenix was darting rapid looks between Miles and Maya, obviously trying to decide whether to stay with his charges, or whether escape was the better part of valor.

Maya took a hard look at Phoenix, and Miles felt a small stirring of respect for the girl when she nodded her approval. The moment of understanding was spoiled a moment later when she turned to the sheepish detective and stated that the three of them would be having a Steel Samurai marathon as soon as they arrived home, and the Gumshoe would be staying for the entire thing.

Phoenix was looking back at the gathering as Miles grabbed his elbow, solicitously leading him from the banquet hall. "I should really stay with Maya, she's had a rough time lately and I-"

"She has her cousin to keep her company, and that great oaf to keep her safe. She'll be fine for the night." Miles cut off the other man's burbling. He was aware that he was being overly gallant (he started getting curious looks from hotel staff who were probably wondering why he kept opening doors for the other man) but Phoenix was so clearly discomfited that Miles wasn't certain he was aware enough of his surroundings to make sure he didn't injure himself on the way to the car.

The ride to Miles' apartment was taken in near complete silence, save for the gradual crescendo of Phoenix's nerves. Phoenix would shift across the seat, pluck on his seatbelt, sigh... By the time Miles had parked the car on the curb and walked around the other side to let his overwrought passenger out, Phoenix was a constant cacophony of pressurized little noises waiting to explode.

And explode he did, as soon as Miles escorted him up the landing and locked the door behind them. He hung his head and burst into noisy sobs. "Oh god... Oh my god..." His shoulders were shaking and his hands were clenched into fists that he pushed against his streaming eyes. "She could have died... I almost killed her... Oh my god..." His voice was cracked and breaking, and muffled against his wrists.

Miles wrapped his arms around the other attorney, scolding himself for noticing how nice it felt to have the other man pressed into the crook of his neck. "Its okay. She's okay." Miles took a few shuffling steps to lead the sobbing man further into his apartment. They'd barely stepped onto the carpet when Phoenix started struggled against him. Miles held him out at arms length and searched his face, brows drawn together in confusion. "What is it, Wright?"

"My shoes!" The blue suited attorney was frantic. "I have to take off my shoes. You saved Maya, and – and - my shoes! I have to save your carpet." His voice was earnest, even if his words weren't entirely sane. Phoenix reached down with manic, uncoordinated hands to undo his shoes before his entire skeletal system turned to pudding. "I'm sorry... Oh God..."

Miles followed Phoenix to the ground as his knees collapsed. "Its okay. You're okay." He felt trite repeating his earlier words, but they seemed to be the most appropriate response. He could feel the other man's hot breath on his neck (even through his cravat) and the moist pressure of where Phoenix's tears were soaking into the fabric of his designer magenta suit.

"Thank you so much... You- you and Gumshoe... She's okay. You saved her, and everything turned out okay." Phoenix was babbling and clenching his fists into the fabric of Mile's shirt. "Oh God... I'm so relieved..."

"You saved her, Phoenix. You did the right thing. It's okay." Miles rubbed soothing circles into the sobbing man's back and held him close, ignoring the foot of the coat rack that was digging into his hip and the awkward angle his back was at. "Its okay, Phoenix."

"I can't even... What if you weren't there? What if..."

Miles wasn't certain of how long they'd been sitting on the floor of his entryway, waiting for Phoenix to cry himself out. By the time the other attorney had calmed, Miles was stiff and his suit was in desperate need of laundering and Phoenix was sprawled like a puddle in his lap as though he'd never had a bone in his body. The great, body shaking sobs and tremors had subsided into tremulous hiccups, Phoenix's impervious hair gel had succumbed to his break-down like Tokyo succumbed to Godzilla. When Phoenix finally lifted his face toward Miles, the smooth fresh skin of his face had turned shiny and red with tears and snot.

Miles couldn't think of anything more beautiful. He pressed their foreheads together, and looked Phoenix in the eyes. "Better?"

Phoenix sniffed. "Yeah." His voice was the antithesis his courtroom persona, meek and watery instead of brash and courageous.

Miles tightened his arms for a moment, then relaxed, still holding the other man as he pressed his lips delicately against Phoenix's. So close together, Miles could feel the tickle as Phoenix's eyes fluttered shut. He pressed another kiss to his disheveled hair as Phoenix's breathing deepened and slowed.

If Miles had forgotten to take his shoes off before walking on his carpet, there was nobody there to reprimand him. If he was less decorous than usual, buried as he was under the other lawyer, there was nobody to say anything.

And if he happened to whisper his love into the ear of the man drooling all over his shirt, there was nobody to say anything about that either.


End file.
